Dark Dilemma
by XenaTwin
Summary: Story set between OOTP and HBP, after Dumbledore's encounter with the cursed Horcrux ring. McGonagall is captured by Death Eaters and taken to Voldemort. Snape is forced to witness her suffering or risk his cover and his life to try to save her.
1. Chapter 1: Healing the Headmaster

Snape worked on the Headmaster's hand for hours, perhaps even days. He really didn't know how long it had been, so absorbed was he in trying to still the course of the evil magic that was even now spreading death along its dreadful path. He used a combination of spells and potions far more advanced than the average wizard's ability or knowledge. He could all but see the spectre of death that hovered just beyond Dumbledore's laboured breathing, but he refused to be cowed by it. Any lesser wizard would have given up the ghost, so to speak, hours ago and let the old man go. But he was Severus Snape... and he was no lesser wizard. So he continued, pouring every ounce of energy he had into the magic that surged from his wand, until his brow moistened with the beads of his labour and his eyes lost their ability to focus.

Snape worked at it longer than he perhaps should have, refusing to believe he was unable to do more even after the proof presented itself to him. He could not believe a man as great and wise as Dumbledore could be undone by such an obvious snare, would not believe a life so long and critical to others was to end by such foolish circumstance. Snape felt he'd worked too hard toward their common goal to see it all wasted this way. By the end the old man lived by sheer will alone, both his own and Snape's - but it was merely a temporary stemming of the tide. Snape knew it would, in time, take him.

Halfway through his toil, Snape had felt the Mark begin to burn. He'd ignored it. It was not a wise choice but the only one available to him under present circumstances. He knew the Dark Lord was already in as foul a mood as Snape should safely press him, after the failed battle at the Ministry and his own failure to show up there. Snape had so recently been the focus of his master's displeasure, he had no wish to give Voldemort more reason to test his wand hand on him... but Dumbledore's life hung by a thread. The Dark Lord would have to wait, and Snape would have to face whatever punishments that earned him.

Snape had done all he could for now. He settled the old wizard to rest, then turned to collect his supplies, and his nerve, in order to face his next challenge. "Severus," came the weak, breathy voice behind him. Snape had not expected the Headmaster to awaken again this soon, but the old wizard's strength had surprised nearly everyone who'd known him over the years.

He turned to look down at Dumbledore, then knelt. He read the question in the old, blue eyes, but the discussion would have to wait. Instead he answered,"The Mark has been burning for some time. I must go to him." Dumbledore looked about to rise, so he quickly added, with no small bit of frustration evident in his voice, "You must rest, Albus. I did not add more hexes to my regime tonight just for you to waste all my efforts here!"

Snape was snappish by nature, as nearly everyone he'd ever met could attest to, but he rarely directed that trait toward the Headmaster as he'd just done. Dumbledore paused his movement and stared at Snape in response. Snape, feeling as transparent as ever under the intense blue stare, knew the Headmaster was no fool. He must realize the extent of the damage the ring had caused him.

Dumbledore realized just how hurried the Potions master had to be in order to snap at him so. He was not foolish enough to believe that all was now well. His hand was obviously still affected and he could feel the magical poisons still in his system. He also realized how worried Snape must have been, to react with common anger once the immediate crisis had passed. But a further discussion about it with Severus would have to wait. For now he nodded at his dark servant and settled deeper into his bed. Snape took that as his dismissal and rushed from the room, his cloak billowing behind him as he blended into the night.

Clouds rolled across the sky, as they seemed ever to do above Voldemort's chosen camp, as if even the purity of the moonlight was unwelcome or unwilling to brighten the path of such an evil. Snape arrived at the Dark Lord's base adorned in his black cape and his dual masks, one the mark of a Death Eater and the other his usual one of flesh and hidden secrets. He pulled his eyes from the sky as he stepped from the shadows toward the rickety building, wondering as he did so, as ever, if this sky would be the last he witnessed.

Once through the doorway, the structure looked immensely different than its outward appearance had indicated. It was vast, with vaulted ceiling and circling balconies, many of which were partially hidden in shadow. Voldemort liked to shroud himself in darkness, which Snape found fitting. Snape quickly scanned at least a dozen other Death Eaters as he entered, noting as they, in turn, counted him. He pretended to ignore them, as was customary, while he approached their common master.

Snape had prepared for Voldemort's wrath as best he could. His robes' pockets were stashed with the usual regeneration and healing potions he had learned to always have on hand. It was in this mindset of controlled foreboding that he entered the vile den. So he was completely unprepared for the scene that awaited him.

Voldemort stood at the heart of the room, his back still to Snape, upon a raised platform. With proper supplicating demeanour and bowed head, Snape swept forward, easing his way among the throng until he reached the common area before the Dark Lord's dais. At his approach, the red eyes turned to find him, and Voldemort turned, giving Snape a clear view of what had previously occupied his attention.


	2. Chapter 2: Taken!

She was strung up before the Dark Lord, her wrists and ankles held with bonds of pulsating green bands, magical ties that Snape knew were unbreakable except by magical means. Snape had no idea how they had gotten hold of her. There had been safety measures in place. She knew the dangers, and she was a very practical and powerful witch, one even better than most at slipping out of harm's way, being one of only seven known Animagi of the last century. But that skill would not help her now. Even transfiguring one's form was pointless as the magical bonds adapted to fit the captive's shape. The weariness and fear on her face told Snape that she was aware of that fact, perhaps having tried all her options already.

Snape glanced at McGonagall's panicked eyes, then took in the scene while he walked slowly toward the Dark Lord's waiting form.He had yet to look at Voldemort himself directly, and he was afraid of what he'd see when he did. His mind raced, and he wished he could slip away to send a Patronus to Dumbledore or the other Order members. He had no plan for this and could not see a way safely past it, for himself or for her. He knew he would not be able to sit idly by and be witness to her sacrifice. He knew his own limits, and he feared for the ultimate goal if he could not uphold his ruse. _"Where is your WAND?"_ he thought in his frenzy. Not for the first time, he cursed the Order members for not listening to his advice to learnmore wandless magic. The only ones he knew besides himself who had any skill at it were Remus Lupin and Dumbledore.

Snape tore his gaze away and knelt with bowed head before Voldemort, then steeled his will and recited the now familiar litany. "Forgive me, my Lord... for my tardiness. There were... unforeseen obstacles... that delayed my ability to obey your summons as immediately as I wished to." The most convincing lies were those that most closely resembled the truth... it was an old spy's adage he'd come to understand a long time ago, and he reminded himself of it frequently.

He was surprised at how cool his words sounded, but he had practiced well for this role. He felt her eyes snap to him even though he did not spare her another glance. She had not recognized him with the mask, but his voice she knew. Snape looked up at the Dark Lord now and saw the serpent eyes watching him, a small smile playing on the snakelike face. So the Dark Lord wasn't angry, presumably a result of the new toy he'd acquired to lighten his mood. McGonagall would pay instead, and the Death Eaters would get a reprieve. Snape felt sick inside and wondered idly which of the Dark Lord's servants they owed this "reward" to.

"Severusss," drawled the Dark Lord, the sound like a slowly rumbling hiss, "I have been patiently waiting for your return." He gestured now to the suspended figure, and Snape had no choice but to look at her again, "You almost missed the show."

Snape wished he had if there was nothing he could do to prevent it. His eyes were cool and both masks were in place, but behind them, his mind whirled and spun in frantic circles. He had to think. He must find some way... but he knew there was none, and his mind refused to focus.

Snape saw McGonagall watching him. She looked panicked and in shock, but she did not say his name or beg for his aid. She believed in his cover, and she would gladly sacrifice herself for the goals of the Order. She was a Gryffindor, and for once Severus Snape was grateful for that house's most notable trait.

Voldemort walked slowly around Snape and then over to McGonagall. Snape looked around and noticed the other Death Eaters all watching quietly. He tried to judge the number but soon realized there were far too many of them, even if he did decide to somehow risk it all to save her. He was troubled at his own thoughts. He had not realized how highly he valued her until this moment. The only good from his entire youth was being able to escape to Hogwarts, and then the only fairness he'd gotten, even there, was from this woman. She'd been a sort of beacon to him, a safe harbour in a sea of abuse and neglect, and she was not even of his house. And now he'd have to watch her suffer. He knew he could not bear it, even if she could.

The Dark Lord was speaking again. "Minerva McGonagall..." He slid past her and trailed his fingers across her skin as he spoke in a menacingly sweet voice. "We went to school together in our youth." Her eyes watched him warily and darted back to Snape's. "I once offered you a choice, Minerva. Do you remember it?" She shut her eyes for a moment and said quietly, "Yes."

"Good... and do you regret the choice you made then, Minerva?" His voice sounded like a caress, and it was even more frightening for it. Snape watched McGonagall. She swallowed once before saying in a firm voice, "No, Tom. I do not regret _**any**_ of my choices." Snape saw in her eyes that she wanted to say more, but her nerve failed her, and she fell silent.

Snape expected to see the Dark Lord's rage then, at her daring to use his birth name if not her rejection. But it did not come. Instead he heard a low chuckle, as if her response were just what he'd been hoping for. "Such a shame, Minerva. A Pureblood witch like yourself, and with such promising gifts. What a sad waste because of a silly, old hat."

He walked slowly around her as he talked more to himself than to her. "The blame lies with faulty education, really... after all, it's the teachers who lead the students toward their... beliefs." Laughter followed this comment. "Wouldn't you agree, Minerva?" She remained silent and avoided his eye contact.

"Head of Gryffindor... enemy of Slytherin." Snape saw her jaw set in stubborn lines as Voldemort hissed the words so close to her face. Her eyes closed tight for a moment when he raised his voice to address his Death Eaters. "A message, my loyal followers." A murmur went through the crowd, sounding both of excitement and trepidation, as some of the gathered were genuinely happy to at last have some of their master's attention... and others simply knew what was expected of them in the face of their Lord's conquest.

"Dumbledore stacks all the cards in Gryffindor's favour at Hogwarts... a tradition that goes back through the ages, I'm told." Snape did not like where this was heading. Voldemort continued, "Perhaps it's time we awarded our own House Cup, hmm?" Some answering snickers. "I say we show house Gryffindor that Slytherin is the dominant house... once and for all!"

Snape thought that was the point of the war, but he knew that was not what Riddle had in mind at the moment. His present plan was more personal and more troubling. Snape's suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Voldemort suddenly turned and forcefully grabbed McGonagall. She gasped as he shoved her against the wall behind her. He pressed his body against her, and Snape saw panic threaten the control she had tried so valiantly for.


	3. Chapter 3: A Lesson in Fear

Voldemort grinned viciously at McGonagall's fear. He brought his wand up to her face, and she flinched away from it. He held the wand against the side of her face and then slowly slid it down her body in an obscene fashion, stopping at the juncture of her legs. Snape heard a small panicky sound as she turned her head away from Voldemort's leering face. Voldemort's tongue flicked out against McGonagall's cheek, and Snape saw his clawed hand cover one of the old witch's breasts. She shivered at the intimate contact, and her eyes went a little wild. Snape sawher form begin to shimmer and knew she was trying again to use her transfiguration skill, perhaps even unconsciously, to somehow escape. Voldemort let her shape begin to shift for just a moment and then... "Crucio," he said almost casually, still pointing the wand toward her.

Her scream was very catlike but ended horribly human. Her head hung limp and her limbs went slack after the curse left her. Voldemort moved away from his now prone victim and let her have a moment to recover as he turned toward his minions. "Dumbledore's second in charge," he said derisively to the crowd he played to.

_"Of a school,"_ thought Snape in secret disgust, _"not his army!" _Not to mention that she'd been bound helplessly without a wand. He slid his eyes away, lest these thoughts be somehow visible to the Dark Lord, while he listened to the laughter of his fellow Death Eaters. Bellatrix's voice rang out loudest. "Wizard's PET!" she spat with a mad chortle, and other similar jeers joined hers. No doubt the raving witch considered herself infinitely clever in connecting McGonagall's special skill with her apparent loyalty and adoration of her leader, but Snape thought this amazingly absurd coming from Bellatrix Lestrange. Of course, he did not dare to voice his opinion aloud, though he secretly wished to.

Snape looked around now and saw a few of the others looking uneasy also. Most notably, Lucius Malfoy was almost hidden at the back of the throng, looking like he would prefer to meld into the wall rather than be party to this. But Snape had no illusions to gain much support from Malfoy if he were to go against Voldemort's wishes. He knew Lucius was not about to risk his own neck, or family's, on anyone's account.

Snape turned his attention back to the Dark Lord and his unfortunate victim again. Snape could hear her sobs now, and Voldemort smiled in his triumph overher. Snape wanted to remind her to be brave. He wished he could somehow tell her to hold out, that help was on the way, but he could not. There was no help coming. He could not get a message to anyone, and even if he could, Dumbledore was the only one who might be able to stand up to the Dark Lord at present... but not now, tonight... not after what had happened.

Even if Dumbledore were able to know, what could even he do to stop this? No, there was no hope for McGonagall. The Dark Lord had unknowingly timed his attack well, and he would seek his vengeance for his failure at the Ministry. He wanted Dumbledore to pay, and he'd chosen McGonagall to carry the weight of that message back to him, knowing the Headmaster would bear the pain and guilt for what was done to her here. Snape didn't know if the Dark Lord planned for her to live through it or not.He didn't know which would actually be the kinder outcome.

Voldemort moved to McGonagall again. He lifted her face with his wand and Snape saw the tears glisten on her usually stoic face. He could not risk his secret goals, but he could not just stand here and let Voldemort ruin her like this. He tried to think. Voldemort brought his wand quickly down in a slashing motion. There was a ripping sound, and McGonagall's robes loosened a bit. Snape heard some material fall and realized her clothing had been torn under the outer robe. She struggled again against her bonds and said in a strangled voice, "No."

"Yesss," the snakelike face hissed back, taunting her. The Dark Lord reached for her, and Snape saw a flash of white thigh as the clawed hand gripped her posterior beneath the robe and held her tight against him. Voldemort was staring into McGonagall's face as he thrust his body slowly against her, revelling in her fear. Snape heard the Dark Lord mutter an enlarging spell. McGonagall heard it too, or perhaps felt it. Her eyes went wide. She cried and finally begged, "Tom, no... please... don't." She used his name again, perhaps in an attempt to appeal to his humanity, not realizing the folly in it. She looked ashamed as she added, "I... I will... I will... s... s..." She couldn't quite bring herself to say it, even in her terrified state.

Voldemort had been waiting for her words on baited breath, but if he was disappointed he did not show it. He laughed in pleasure to get what he had wanted from her all along and finished the statement for her. "You will what, Minerva... serve me?" Her eyes pleaded with him, but she clenched her jaw and raised her chin in defiance. Voldemort looked steadily back at her as he snarled, "Sorry... My dear..." he said in a mocking imitation of Dumbledore, "...you had your chance for that. But don't worry," he continued, "you _**will**___serve me... and well, I can assure you."

Snape was nearly sick as he watched her frantic eyes. They darted along the ranks of Death Eaters who leered at her, then at last found his own. She was close to breaking, he realized. He expected her to call for him to help her somehow, but looking at him she seemed to collect some shred of herself again... regaining just enough of her dignity to keep from futilely condemning them both to death.

Then the Dark Lord reached up and tore her robe, exposing one breast, which hecovered with his snakelike mouth. She screamed again, and Snape imagined him biting her. His mind raced, and he had to fight to keep from drawing his wand. He knew that would just get them both killed. He had to keep to the plan... he owed it to Lily... but Lily was not here. She was beyond his help, while McGonagall was suffering in front of him.


	4. Chapter 4: Desperate Measures

The hideous mouth had a trickle of blood at the corner as it pulled away from McGonagall's chest, matching the smear of red visible now on McGonagall's pale skin. Snape was relieved to note it was a small wound, meant only to tease at pain... it could have been much worse,but that was probably only due to the Dark Lord not wanting his sport to end too swiftly with her fainting.

Voldemort looked at the Death Eaters again. Snape looked too. Some of them held back, perhaps uneasy with the torture of their former teacher, but most were eagerly watching their master. Snape was disgusted to see many had their hands in their robes, and a few made it quite apparent how their master's show was affecting them. Crabbe was breathing heavily and begging his master to let him show the Gryffindor head who her betters were.

Voldemort chuckled and replied to the eager minion, "Patience... I am not done with her... yet." This seemed to please Crabbe, who took it as a promise that he would get a share. It also brought even greater panic to Snape, who watched helplessly while the Dark Lord reached again for McGonagall, crushing himself against her and moving his hand between their two bodies. She cried out with a moaning sob, and Snape knew Voldemort was touching her now. Her body moved in spasms, trying to buck him off of her to no avail, and she finally gave in to her panic and cried out to him, "S... S... Severus…please." She did not say the word help, but he heard it just as clearly. McGonagall's eyes found his and Snape saw the last shreds of hope die in them. He stared coldly back at her while his own mind screamed at him to stop this any way he could.

Snape opened his mouth to speak, not even sure yet what would issue from it. "Forgive me... my Lord." Voldemort stiffened and stilled but did not turn, "I am sorry to disturb your... sport... but I have returned with critical news... about the prophecy... about the Potter boy. I should have given my report sooner... but I was... distracted... by your unexpected... diversion." His mind wanted to replace the last word with 'perversion', but wisely, he was as unreadable as ever. Voldemort turned his head enough to sneer his displeasure at Snape, then did something that made McGonagall cry out again.

Snape tried again. "Master... surely the information I bring concerning the boy and the prophecy... new information that you have not yet heard, gathered by the Order in the Hall of Mysteries... before the recent battle..." He tried to use the Dark Lord's desperation for the lost prophecy as bait. Unfortunately it did not appear to hold more sway then his present dalliance, so Snape was forced to resort to a different tack "... is more important than satisfying some petty human need..." Voldemort turned abruptly, and Snape saw the wand snap out. So that had done it then. He hoped he'd gambled correctly enough to earn him torture and not death. It was such a fine line to tread.

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort was angry. Snape let the pain take him, not hiding his screams of excruciating agony since he knew only those would appease the Dark Lord's wrath.

"Severus, whatever knowledge you bring me can wait a little while longer." Voldemort moved closer to Snape as the painful contractions finally subsided enough for Snape to breathe again. "Be careful... or we might think you were not truly one of ussss." The last word was drawn out into a snakelike hiss.

After an infinitely long few moments, the pain subsidedagain to only the "unbearable" level, allowing him at least to think again, and attempt some speech.

"M - m - my lord..." groaned out Snape as he rolled onto his knees, "for.. forgive me for my... over-excitement... in bringing you news that might further our cause... I assure you my loyalties lie only with you." When Voldemort continued to stare at him, he paused a moment... hoping to delay the Dark Lord from his previous course of action as long as possible. Finally he added, "I bear your mark, Master. I wear no badge of Dumbledore's."

As he knew it would, the simple statement seemed to please Voldemort, and he finally turned his gaze away. _"Only because Dumbledore does not need to induce pain and enforced servitude to ensure his followers loyalty."_ Snape did not share those thoughts with Voldemort, of course, but he could not stop them from flitting through his mind.

Voldemort swept across the room toward McGonagall once again, and no one dared say a word. Snape knew that if he did so again, he would die for it. He knew the only logical course was to do nothing. There was nothing he could do to help McGonagall. He'd seen rape before, even been forced to take some small part in it, though he luckily always managed to seem more involved then he actually was. And he'd arranged to be conveniently absent on most occasions. He'd seen people tortured, and killed... some that he'd even known. But never had it been someone he'd known this closely. He felt this was a test of his strength or his commitment. But he didn't know what the correct course was to make the grade. _"What would Dumbledore do?"_ he thought.

But Dumbledore was not there to offer counsel or to help them. And Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort was fearful of, save perhaps the Potter child. Okay, then... what would Dumbledore advise Snape to do? It was sure to be along the lines of whatever would benefit the greater good. Was the greater good served best by Snape leaving McGonagall to face her unfortunate fate?Probably. McGonagall was crying again. Snape heard her softly beg, "Please... no!" then small shrieks of unmistakable pain, accompanied by the cheers and laughter of the assembled horde below the stage-like dais.

Snape felt something dangerous snap inside him. _"Bugger the greater good, then!"_ he thought fiercely and reached for his wand.


	5. Chapter 5: The Cavalry

Then many things happened at once. Light flooded the room as figures appeared among the assembled Death Eaters. Mad-eye Moody was suddenly standing next to Snape. The Auror looked down at Snape for a moment, pointing his wand, then growled, "Expelliarmus". Snape's wand flew out of his hand.

Snape looked around and saw Lupin and Kingsley driving off Bellatrix and Lucius, the latter of whomdid not appear to be putting up much of a fight. Lucius Disapparated at his first opportunity, but Bellatrix would not leave her master so easily. Finally Kingsley disarmed her, and at seeing Lupin charging toward her, she also Disapparated. Snape considered that a prudent choice on her part since the werewolf had so recently watched her slay his dearest friend.

All around him other Order members were battling the Death Eaters. Voldemort roared his outrage at losing the sanctity of his present headquarters. Moody roared back at him, "Is this the extent of it then, Riddle... you'd stoop to the rape and murder of old women to show how POWERFUL you really are?" He said it mockingly, and Snape saw Voldemort's thin nostrils flare. He slowly raised his wand as Moody stared rebelliously back at him.

"Want to trade up, Tom?" came the quiet question from the back of the room and every head in the place turned to it. "One questionably 'old' witch for one immensely ancient wizard. What do you say?" The calmly reasonable voice somehow commanded all attention, and Dumbledore strode regally into the room as if it were a dinner appointment, his gloved right hand stiffly holding the dark elegant wand at his side.

If Snape had not seen the old man near death mere hours ago, he would not have believed any weakness in the bearing of the man who faced Voldemort now. He had not believed the Headmaster so capable an actor. He had no idea how the Order had come to know of McGonagall's peril– or how they had found the secret headquarters of Voldemort's camp that even he was unable to discern–but he felt more relief then he had ever felt at their timely arrival.

Dumbledore's gaze swept the scene before him, his face darkening as his eyes found McGonagall's now slumped form. The remaining Death Eaters seemed as one to decide to Disapparate rather than face the man known as the world's greatest living wizard.

Voldemort half hissed and half snarled down at Dumbledore. Snape retrieved his wand and quickly joined Voldemort in his stance by McGonagall. He held the wand as if he were defending their prize from the Order, but his true intention was to place himself in the way should the Dark Lord decide to try a killing curse on the Deputy Headmistress before his retreat.

Snape saw the moment when Dumbledore noticed her tear-streaked face, and was shocked to see such fury in his old mentor's eyes. Dumbledore's wand spun over his head, and a fiery tendril shot out to whip at Voldemort's face, who blocked it with a green flash of energy that emanated from his wand like a shield. Then Voldemort stabbed out with his wand and suddenly there were daggers shooting toward Dumbledore and his team of rescuers. Dumbledore did not slow his approach but batted the knives aside like he was merely waving away a swarm of annoying insects. The Order members followed him, firing bursts of energy from their wands at Voldemort and the few remaining Death Eaters.

Snape did not recognize Dumbledore. This was not the same man he'd nursed to life only hours earlier. This was the Dumbledore of yesteryear, the great wizard who had defeated Grindelwald the Dark. Snape had not seen the Headmaster in this light since that fateful night on the lonely hill so many years before. Voldemort's curses seemed unable to find a mark, but he would not give ground. He stepped forward, and the blasts from his wand and Dumbledore's met and battled between the wizards. Dumbledore'sseemed easily the stronger, but as Snape watched he saw Voldemort's begin to gain ground. He knew the Headmaster's strength was failing and realized Dumbledore's bluff was about to be called. He could not out-power the Dark Lord with his health in such jeopardy. Voldemort seemed to realize his advantage, and he smiled as he pressed the attack with renewed vigour.

Then a flash of red and blue flames illuminated Dumbledore's form and flew over his head straight into Voldemort's face. Fawkes the phoenix screeched his fury and clapped his wings together, shooting white hot spouts of fire into the Dark Lord's snakelike pupils. With a scream of pain and rage, Voldemort shrank back and disappeared in a greenish black cloud of vapour that shot upward at a blinding speed. Fawkes shot after him like a streak of lightning. Snape looked up to find a small skylight above the room's center.

Moody and Dumbledore reached the dais in the same moment, and Snape lowered his wand, not liking the distrustful glare Moody held on him. Even when the cynical Auror finally turned away, his magical eye did not leave Snape. Dumbledore made a slicing motion with his wand, and McGonagall fell forward into his waiting arms. Snape heard her say, "Albus," weakly before Dumbledore shushed her softly and gently poured a small vial of liquid into her mouth. Almost immediately her head rolled to the side, and she was still– unconscious, Snape knew.

Then Dumbledore sank to the floor for a moment, glancing over to Snape. They did not need to share words for Snape to see the intended message in the Headmaster's eyes. Snape nodded his understanding, then stooped down to scoop up McGonagall's prone form. The Order members left the the way they had come, but Snape knew some remained to check for more Death Eaters or their victims.

It would be just a short while before the Dark Lord was settled again in a new location,and then Snape would undoubtedly feel the burn of another summons. But before that time he had a lot to accomplish. He needed to see Dumbledore, firstly to administer more recuperative measures after the recent physical strain, secondly to discuss what had happened in the hopes of trying to prevent future occurrences, and lastly, the Headmaster had to hear the full extent of the damage the cursed ring had done him. Snape would have to tell Dumbledore that he was dying. All these thoughts raged in his mind as he robotically carried McGonagall to the Hogwarts infirmary. When he arrived, Dumbledore and Pomfrey were already waiting there. Poppy, in her usual deftly efficient manner, had McGonagall placed on a bed and her chaperones ushered out of the hospital wing all in less than five minutes.

Dumbledore and Snape walked without talking straight to the Headmaster's office.

_*** __**Author's note:**__ This is where the canon scene we see through Snape's memories takes place, in which Snape informs Dumbledore of his impending death by cursed ring, and then they discuss the plans for Snape to kill Dumbledore so that Draco will be spared his murder.***_


	6. Chapter 6: Infirmary

Four hours later, McGonagall had finally persuaded Pomfrey to leave the hospital wing for the night and return to her own quarters. It had not been easy as the nurse had insisted on not leaving Minerva alone. But McGonagall preferred it that way, she'd insisted, and had eventually convinced her friend it was so. Not knowing how to deny such a strong personality as McGonagall's, the nurse had finally acquiesced and gone, but Minerva knew it was really because Poppy did not know how to face the pain she saw in the Deputy Headmistress' eyes. She wished she could avoid dealing with it as well. Sighing, she laid back on her pallet, thankful she was finally alone so she didn't have to hide the tears that spilled over to wet the pillow below her head.

Snape watched her quietly from the doorway, unsure why he'd felt such a need to be there. He had just come from the Headmaster, and he knew his mind was uneasy from what was discussed there. New secrets that he could not share with anyone else... secrets that would one day cause this woman he cared for even more pain, he knew. Secrets he would be unable to protect her from.

He listened silently as she sobbed softly into her pillow, unaware she had a witness. He felt uneasy being there without her leave, but still he stayed. Perhaps he needed to see her well and whole and safe after the horror he'd witnessed her in before. Perhaps just being there made him feel he was guarding her from further harm.

She stilled suddenly, as if she felt him there, even though he'd made no move or sound to indicate his presence to her. She rolled her head slowly and found him then, and neither of them moved or spoke for a long moment. Finally she raised her eyes to the ceiling instead, and he was uncertain if the gesture meant he should leave or if it welcomed him to approach. Doing either incorrectly might cause her more pain, so he remained where he was uncertainly.

Snape was unaccustomed to feeling, or at least showing, any sign of nervousness. However, he was also unaccustomed to placing himself in such an unfamiliar situation as this. He was not the caregiver type, nor did he have any wish to be. He seldom let himself become emotionally vulnerable by daring to care about another's well being to such an extent - not since the loss of Lily. He was unquestionably out of his element at being here, and torn at knowing what to do. He might have shifted his weight in his nervousness, he was not certain, but he assumed she thought he might leave when she said quietly into the stillness, "Wait...," then in a whisper she added, "please." The please was wholly unnecessary, of course, and it made her sound small to his ears.

So he waited, then when she said no more, he moved quietly to her bed, still not speaking. He was not sure what to say to her. He was unused to consoling anyone, and even less sure of his abilities where strong hearted Minerva McGonagall was concerned. Dumbledore should be here instead of him, had intended to be in fact, had Snape himself not resolutely forbid the man to get out of his bed again for the next eight hours. It had been all he could do to convince the man that he'd be dead within the week if he ignored Snape's advice again for any reason. In the end he'd promised the Headmaster to come see to McGonagall himself and deliver his message to her with the promise Dumbledore would come to see her personally on the morrow.

So here was Snape now, looking down at the staid woman he'd so frequently butted heads with, but who he secretly respected beyond all other. "Minerva..." he finally said very quietly, and the thick, soft tone of his voice must have warned her off. She abruptly squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head briskly, cutting him off. When he stopped what he'd been about to say, she opened her eyes again and blinked a few times. He realized she was trying not to break down, whether specifically in front of him or at all, he was not certain.

He sat next to her silently again, until she finally gave an odd little laugh and said, far too casually, "So have I lost us the cup, then?" Her eyes flashed to his briefly and then quickly away again. Though she tried valiantly to hide it, he saw the lines of worry deepen around her eyes and mouth. In her own Gryffindor way, he gathered she was asking if he thought she'd shamed her house.

He smiled sadly at the reminder of their rivalrous banter, then barely resisted the urge to lift her chin as he answered softly, "My dearest lady, you've earned enough house points that I shan't even attempt competition for at least the next seven years running." He had tried for the same playful tone she'd used, but it came out heavy with the true respect and affection he couldn't presently hide. Her eyes moved to his, and he saw the tears in them she refused to allow herself. Again there was silence.

Snape slid his hand lightly over McGonagall's. He felt her tremble, but she remained still and soundless. He felt she did not trust herself to speak further or she'd still be playing at banter. He understood her trepidation at allowing herself to feel so strongly, perhaps better than anyone else could. She was not that unlike himself. Neither of them could allow their cracks to show, even to themselves, for fear the weakness would undo them. He wondered idly if he had unintentionally copied her manner as a child, or if circumstance had simply led him to it. A worthy introspection, but one for another day.

He moved closer to the bed so that he could reach out his hand to stroke her head gently. She flinched slightly, and he couldn't help but be reminded of his own youth again, when he'd once shied in such a way from her caring touch. _"Full circle,"_ he thought to himself.

She looked quickly at him, and he saw the same memory in her eyes. He began to speak again but this time did not say her name first, in case it upset her again. He started in a more casual tone that belied the seriousness of his words. "Well, if you aren't about to explode in a shower of well-earned tears..." he paused at her startled look, then finished as he caressed her cheek, "then do you mind terribly if I do?" He gazed down at her and let the sorrow and fear he'd felt show fully in his eyes.

She broke quietly like a Muggle child's balloon that had been left out in the sun of a hot summer's day. The tears spilled out, and once in power, would not be stoppered. Slowly her shoulders began to shake, and then the sobs took control of her body. She gasped between sobbing, and she pressed her head against him, while he held her with both arms, whispering over and over that she was safe now, back where she belonged.

He held her a long time that way, while she alternated between fierce wails of frustrated anger and then spells of exhausted, sorrowful despair. When he heard a slight note of shame or self directed anger in her voice he made sure to steer her away from that and back to where the blame needed laying. He was not about to see her punishing herself for any of it, even though he concluded enough from Dumbledore earlier, and now her, to know that she'd been abducted, in part, because of her own lapse in judgement. She'd rashly gone to visit a friend who'd been suddenly injured and brought to St. Mungos... in express violation of the Order's wartime protocol and without talking to Dumbledore directly about her plans first.

Thankfully, she had decided to send Dumbledore an owl from town before her sick visit, no doubt realizing her folly and attempting to forestall his inevitable lecture. When she hadn't turned up when expected, Dumbledore had immediately sent for Moody. Snape was not certain how Moody had managed to sniff out the Death Eater lair, but he knew the old Auror had secret methods he did not trust Snape to be privy to. As contrary as it was to McGonagall's verbal protestations, she rarely actually _**did**_ much to remind Snape what a true Gryffindor she was, and he was very thankful this event hadn't cost her even more than it had. He knew her pride was the most damaged, but if anyone could survive the blow to ego intact, it was the formidable Minerva McGonagall.

_*** __**Author's note:**__ In this chapter I briefly refer to a scene I read in another fan fiction. It is a short but wonderful story that takes place in Snape's youth at Hogwarts, where McGonagall is one of his teachers. I consider it as canon as a fan fiction can be and highly recommend it. It is titled "And Yet He Flinched", published on , by author H.L.B. _

_**Another note:**__ In regards to the last line of the chapter where I describe McGonagall as formidable - I got the idea from the movie Sister Act, where Whoopi Goldberg's character, Dolores, uses it to describe Dame Maggie Smith's character, Mother Superior. I loved the line in the movie and feel it just so perfectly fits Maggie (and pretty much any character she plays) that I wanted to use it somewhere for McGonagall, who I cannot help but think of as "Mother Superior in wizard robes". Hope you all agree. If you haven't seen Sister Act - OMG go watch it right now!_


	7. Chapter 7: The Morning After

Snape stayed with her that night, nodding off himself in the overstuffed chair he'd conjured by her bed, even after she'd finally succumbed to fitful sleep. When she woke him with whimpered cries, he held her again and then gave her a potion to keep the nightmares at bay and let her rest more fully. She usually refused such potions but under these circumstances, and in her half awake state, he managed her agreement.

In the morning he awoke to Pomfrey's obviously annoyed frown, to which he scowled back and informed her in a scathing voice that he was under Dumbledore's expressed directive to guard his deputy in the Headmaster's absence. It was not entirely true, but it worked to direct the nurse's disapproval away from Snape, for the moment at any rate. McGonagall stirred at the mild commotion, causing Snape to seriously consider hexing the irritating nurse and then quoting at her, "Physician, heal thyself!" The notion was just amusing enough to keep him from actually doing it, thankfully.

When Pomfrey came round to ask McGonagall for her breakfast order, Minerva shook her head. Snape, having none of that, ordered for her... two soft scrambled eggs, a blueberry scone, andof course, a cup of hot tea. He then amused both women by lecturing McGonagall about her need to eat and threatening that if she didn't, he–and the Headmaster–would know of it.

"That's rich, isn't it, coming from Hogwart's worst patient?" came Pomfrey's snide comment from behind him, as she changed bed sheets that were in no real need of changing.

"I have every potion you could possibly give me down in my 'Dragon's Lair' as you dubbed it last time, remember?" Snape spat back at her, then added, "I'm the one who supplies _**you**_, you bloody harpy!" He growled the last and actually made McGonagall smile a bit as she bit back a snort of laughter. Snape was glad to see it.

Snape glared at Pomfrey until she stomped from the room in a huff, leaving McGonagall and Snape alone.Then he told McGonagall to expect the Headmaster's visit today. He saw the look that crossed her face, and he waited. After a moment, she asked softly, "Does he..." she paused to swallow, then looked appalled at her own nervous gesture. She continued, "... know everything?"

"Yes," he answered her truthfully, and she closed her eyes tight for a moment and nodded. He felt compelled to add, "You know I cannot refuse him anything." When she just nodded again, he squeezed her hand once and said quietly, "I understand you didn't want him to know, Minerva... but I think perhaps you _**needed**_ him to know." It was the closest he had come to indicating he realized how close the two were. Snape surprised himself by adding, "You know he loves you."

Her eyes shot up to his, just as surprised, then with a sad smile she answered, "As a daughter... yes, Severus, I know." She did not mean to show it, but her small sigh gave her away to knowing eyes. Snape felt a new stab of pain at the secrets he could not reveal to her and the knowledge of what she would inevitably feel about sharing this moment of closeness with Snape. He had very little time left to share in her companionship.

Watching her again, he realized she must be doubting Dumbledore's level of concern since the old wizard had put off coming immediately to her bedside. Snape considered telling her the truth, at least part of it–about Dumbledore's falling ill yesterday, and how he had forbade the Headmaster to tax himself any further before a healing rest. But if he told her that, he knew it would worry her, and she would be less likely to eat a proper meal as he had instructed. So he chose instead to let it lie, and knew that she would understand once she'd seen the Headmaster herself. He knew all would be well between the two, so he left the rest in Dumbledore's capable keeping.

He'd known his time would be limited, so it came as no surprise when the burning sensation erupted along his forearm. Having expected it, he did not wince outwardly, but he slid the arm against his leg to soothe, at least slightly, the overtaxed nerves there. McGonagall noticed, perhaps because she too had expected it. He was surprised it had taken Voldemort this long to regroup; perhaps Fawkes had caused him greater injury than Snape expected. _"One can only hope,"_ thought Snape.

When he rose and met her eyes, McGonagall nodded to him. He saw the understanding in her eyes, along with the faith she had in him. He felt another stab of pain and guilt at the knowledge of that faith being tested beyond her limits very soon. Her trust in him would be forgotten then, he knew, as it must... and he hoped when it did she would not revisit this night and blame herself for not doubting him sooner.

He wished he had another choice to make, one that was not destined to cause more hurt to those around him, but no such options were available to him. All his actions led to someone's pain, no matter what he did to try to prevent it. He understood the reasons, but it didn't seem to matter to his heart. He had taken no unbreakable vow to follow Albus Dumbledore's direction without question, but he might as well have. All he could do now was trust in the old wizard's guile. He was committed to the courseand must see it through now, whatever the cost.

He whirled, robes billowing behind him like a cloud of doom, and strode out of the hospital wing. His familiar mask of lies and stony flesh fell into place as he went, sweeping with his long determined strides through the halls and out of the castle. He did not ease his pace until he reached the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, then donning the cursed mask of his errant alliance, he turned on the spot and was gone.

_**End**__** note:**__ Hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Please Review. _


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